by Nelson, Kip
Then Jeff sat up and gut-punched Tillman. Tillman doubled over, and then was wrestled to the ground by a hand around his neck. Jeff was determined, that was for sure, and sometimes that could make up for the lack of formal training.
Tillman struggled to pry Jeff's arm away from his throat, but then gave up in favor of a different tactic. He brought his arm forward, then jammed it back into Jeff's stomach, feeling the man shudder. Jeff grunted, but retorted by slamming his fist into the side of Tillman's head.
“You're not going to win this one,” Jeff said, punctuating every couple of words with another blow. Tillman was beginning to feel groggy. Jeff showed no sign of relenting. Anger had consumed him, and Tillman knew Jeff wasn't going to stop until Tillman was dead.
Except Tillman wasn't ready to die yet.
Stars danced before his eyes and his mind was hazy, but some instinctive part of him knew enough to do what he needed to survive. Instead of futilely trying to block Jeff's blows, Tillman's hand fell to the ground, searching for another weapon. His fingers ran against soft soil, which easily could blind and temporarily incapacitate Jeff. But then he felt something hard and jagged. He strained with his fingers to grip the sharp stone, and then pulled it up. He smiled as he beat the stone against Jeff’s head. Then he twisted his hand to jab the sharp stone into Jeff's mid-section, just under his rib cage. Tillman felt the flesh give way, followed by the flow of warm blood.
Jeff's grip released instantly and he fell back, clutching the middle of his body. He wore a shocked expression on his face. Tillman rose and coughed, trying to catch his breath. His head still was ringing and he had to shake away the hazy feeling. He stood with his hands on his hips, still holding the weapon in one hand. The gray stone was stained with dark blood.
“What have you done?” Jeff asked.
“I did what I had to do. I told you this wasn't going to end well for you, Jeff, but you just couldn't listen, could you? You had to push it. And was it really worth it? Did you really accomplish anything? All you've done is make me angry. You haven't changed the world. You haven't made people think any more highly of you. You're nothing. You're pathetic,” Tillman spat, almost surprising himself with the vehemence of his words.
Major came up to Tillman, holding the cane in between his teeth. Tillman took it, ignoring the stream of doggy saliva that Major had left. He placed the cane firmly on the ground as he caught his breath, and let the rock fall to the ground. Major sniffed it inquisitively before turning back, looking at Jeff. Jeff was gasping for breath. Tillman knew the strength was leaving his body. A pool of blood seeped into the ground around him. It wasn't the way Tillman had wanted things to go, but he'd had no choice. He reached up, touched the side of his face and winced. The skin still was tender. It probably would develop into welts and bruises, but he was better off than Jeff.
“You all thought Khan was a monster. But you had no idea what I was capable of. Are you happy now, Jeff? Are you happy that you've brought this out in me?” Tillman shouted. His words spread through the night air until they faded into nothingness. Jeff merely looked at him, afraid and shocked. Tillman's hands shook at having committed such violence. He hadn't wanted this. He'd tried to leave this behind.
Some things just couldn't be helped.
Chapter Eight
Jeff's breathing was ragged. He wheezed, gasping for air. It was more from the shock than anything. Tillman knew exactly what he was going through. The loss of blood would be making him light-headed. He'd be struggling to move his limbs, and panic would start setting in. Somehow, it didn't seem enough for what Jeff had done. But Morelle and Jessica were out there, at the mercy of Ben. Tillman wasn't going to wait to find them.
He turned to walk away, calling Major to heel. The dog, intrigued by the smell of blood, had waddled over to Jeff, but quickly obeyed Tillman's command.
Tillman's heart was dark. He had no mercy for Jeff. As far as he was concerned, Jeff had committed the worse sin, and there was no hope for redemption. He was willing to leave Jeff to bleed out in the forest. But then Jeff laughed.
“You're such a dumbass. Now you're never going to know where she is,” he said. Tillman stopped in his tracks, then went rigid with anger. His entire body felt as though it was on fire. He stormed back to Jeff and grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck.
“Tell me where they are, dammit!” he yelled.
“What more can you do to me?” Jeff asked. Tillman grimaced.
“You're going to wish you hadn't asked that question.”
He brought his fist back and drove it into Jeff's face. Jeff moaned, and then his head lolled to the side. Tillman had learned plenty of useful skills over the course of his life. Most of them he had assumed he never would have to use, but it seemed the time had come to indulge his darker impulses.
There was a secret he had been keeping from everyone, even himself sometimes. He had locked the dark side of himself away from view, so deep that often even he himself forgot it was buried inside him. He'd tapped into it when he had killed the men who had threatened Penelope. This side of him always was there, even though usually he managed to keep it under control. But its existence was one of the reasons he never had let anyone get too close, why he had pulled away from Angela, why he had spent his life alone.
Tillman knew there was a monster inside of him -- a grotesque, powerful creature wanting to claw its way up from the depths of his soul and overpower him. It felt as though slick oil was rising up his throat. Finally, finally it was unleashed.
It almost had been with Khan, but this was different. Jeff had threatened his family. A red mist of anger clouded Tillman's eyes and his heart raged.
The last time this had happened Morelle had been in danger. Javier led her life, and Tillman had been powerless to stop him. At the time he'd just been a weak young man. The only thing strong about him were his wrists after spending so many hours in the arcade. His body was flabby and soft. His diet consisted of Cheetos and soda, like so many of his peers. But then he saw the danger of the world. He'd seen how he had to keep his family safe. Javier was strong. Broad-shouldered, with a torso as thick as a billboard. Javier had control. Tillman often had dreamed of smashing in his face and driving him off for the way he was treating Morelle, but Tillman's only power had been in games.
So, when Tillman had run away, he vowed to return when he was able to take care of Javier. Tillman had enrolled himself in martial arts and survival classes, wanting to learn all he could about how to make sure nobody ever could harm him or the people he loved again. He'd learned about nutrition and how to hone his body into a strong fighting machine, and how to focus his mind. He voraciously read anything pertaining to strength, and he soon transformed into a formidable man.
As it turned out, his father got to Javier before Tillman ever could, although Tillman didn’t know it at the time. Tillman had spent a considerable amount of resources trying to find Javier after Morelle had left, and eventually had had to give up the search. But he'd learned a lot about himself, and wasn't about to give up the lessons, knowing that at some point they would come to be useful.
That time had arrived.
Tillman didn't necessarily like indulging this aspect of himself. It felt unsettling, like wearing clothes that were just a size too small. Yet it was necessary. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt Morelle or Jessica. Not Javier, not Khan, and certainly not these two idiots. Tillman looked down at Jeff’s pitiful form and scowled.
The man's face was as white as the Moon above. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. His chest rose and fell, and the stain of blood bloomed on his shirt. Tillman was so tempted to leave him there, but he knew that if he did, he could be searching for hours in these woods. He didn't know Ben or Jeff well enough to know their most-frequented places, and he wasn't about to go canvas the neighborhood. Morelle and Jessica couldn't wait.
Tillman gathered his strength and hauled Jeff up. Jeff was groggy, incoherent, and he walked on instinct. Tillman tuc
ked his arm around the man and led him away, Major in tow. Jeff's body odor was pungent and the faint hint of liquor lingered on his clothes. He walked him back toward the neighborhood, his mind alive with everything he wanted to do to Jeff.
Fernando's words haunted him. The words of a man who knew that sometimes it was necessary to cross a line. Tillman always wanted to stay moral, but sometimes there were people such as Jeff who just flaunted their malignant nature. People like him didn't deserve to live in a community. For all of Khan's faults, he knew how to play by the rules when somebody else set them. Jeff and Ben were cowards, skulking in the night, kidnapping innocent women. If anything happened to them...Tillman didn't want to think about it. He knew well what he was capable of, and it certainly would make the neighborhood view him in a new light if they saw the beast that resided in his heart.
The night was cool and still as Tillman led Jeff back to one of the abandoned houses. This house’s residents either had fled or died on the first night of the apocalypse. The community had yet to decide what to do with all these houses. Some of them would be converted into production centers, others would remain empty in case any new strangers came along and needed a home. But for now this house was Tillman's domain.
Floorboards creaked under his feet. A musty smell filled the air, and he kicked up layers of dust. The only light was from the moonlight streaming in through the windows. So, for the most part, he was cloaked in darkness. That suited him. This was a task for the darkness, not the light.
For most people, playing video games fell into a few categories. Usually people played them for escape and fun, a way to immerse themselves in something more exciting than the drudgery of their regular lives for a few hours. For some, it was a way of life, losing themselves in the competitive world. Their entire social identity was tied to these games, and they enjoyed having friends from all around the world. For others still, the games were wish fulfillment, taking on a number of different roles they never would have been able to otherwise. For Tillman, they were something different. Games were a way to learn how to move, how to react, how to make the enemy submit. They were a way to hone his skills beyond the survival courses he attended. He focused on them so intensely he was able to bring the skills he learned into his real life.
As he walked around the empty house he thought about all the games he had played over the years. So many of them had included a scenario like this. Tillman lowered Jeff into a chair, then made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through cupboards until he found a candle. Occasionally, he would crane his neck around to make sure Jeff still was sitting peacefully. Tillman didn't want any nasty surprises.
As soon as Tillman found a candle he lit it with some matches that were left beside it. . Orange light bloomed and filled the area surrounding him. He placed the candle in its holder on the counter and then continued looking through the house until he found the entrance to the basement. It was hidden behind a regular door. A narrow staircase led down into pitch black darkness. A stray thought crossed his mind that Angela would make a joke now about the house being haunted. Her interest always had been piqued by the supernatural, which had consoled her after they had broken up as she believed their souls would meet again in another form of existence.
Angela always had teased Tillman about old abandoned houses being haunted by spirits. There used to be a house on the way to school that was decrepit and foreboding. Its windows were like hollow eyes. Its shutters creaked, and the door hung off its hinges. Vines crept around the house, shackling it to the Earth. The overgrown garden had all manner of animals crawling around, and when the wind whistled through the holes in the roof it sounded as though a banshee had taken up residence. The kids always dared each other to go in there, but few were brave enough to do it. Those who did said they never would again. Tillman and Angela never had. The extent of their experience with the house only had been to speculate about its history.
Tillman actually had passed it when he was in town, but avoided it. It was just a house, just like this one. Tillman never had had time to entertain the thought of the existence of supernatural beings on Earth. The true monsters were the people who lied and manipulated. There was enough evil in the human heart to make any monster redundant. Nothing could compare to the cruelty of humanity.
So, in this instance, Tillman wasn't afraid of the dark. It wasn't a ghost or vampire that was holding Morelle and Jessica. It was just the stupid plan of two men who didn't know who they were messing with. Tillman returned to Jeff, whose head lolled, his chin touching his neck. Tillman pulled him up and then led him to the entrance of the basement. He took Jeff down. The staircase was narrow, and it was difficult to keep Jeff upright. Near the end Tillman lost his grip and Jeff went tumbling down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He groaned. There was no way he was putting up a fight.
Tillman returned to the kitchen to grab the candle and a few other supplies before he ventured down into the basement again. With the aid of the candlelight Tillman was able to see the basement spanned the width of the house. Thick pillars held up the ceiling. A worktable was pushed against one side, with a number of tools strewn across it. Boxes sat against another wall. From what he could see they were filled with VHS tapes and old magazines. Whoever lived here had been a hoarder, and Tillman thought it likely they were dead. Someone who found it so hard to let go of the past would be unlikely to let go of their home. If they weren't here, there was good reason for it.
Tillman moved to the worktable and looked through the tools until he found what he was looking for. It took a bit of searching. It was on the floor at the far end of the table, hiding in the shadows, but he soon found the chain and picked it up. It scraped gently against the floor. Yet since the room was so silent, the noise seemed to be deafening. Tillman felt the heavy metal links in his hand and returned to Jeff, who just was regaining consciousness. Tillman dragged Jeff over to a water heater and wrapped the chains around him, making sure he couldn't move. Then Tillman went back upstairs to find some cloth and medical supplies. When he returned, Tillman tore away Jeff's shirt, revealing the nasty gash that he had made in Jeff's skin.
The blood bubbled as it pulsed through his body and seeped out of his wound. It had trickled down his body, leaving what looked like tracks of red tears. The brown hair that dusted his mid-section was matted together by the blood that had dried. It was a miracle the man had survived, and there was a good chance that he still would die by daybreak.
Tillman dressed the wound. The shock of him cleaning it woke up Jeff momentarily, before he slumped into a stupor again. It would take time before he regained enough strength to answer Tillman's questions, but Tillman didn't have that long to wait.
Tillman told Major to watch Jeff as he went upstairs again and filled up a jug with as much cold water as he could take from the tap before it choked itself dry. He also grabbed himself a couple of biscuits. This was going to be a long night. Fatigue tugged at the back of his mind but he forced it away. Morelle and Jessica were counting on him.
He dragged a chair downstairs as well. The legs rebounded against each step. He placed it in front of Jeff, then walked over to the worktable where he examined the tools. There were hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, a drill, and a vice. There were plenty of things to help Jeff talk. Torture never was a reliable source of trustworthy information, since people were all too willing to tell the torturer what they wanted to hear.
Jeff thought himself a smart man, but he was the stupidest son of a bitch alive. He'd angered Tillman Torres, and that was the worst mistake he ever had made. Tillman would break Jeff before he was finished with him, and after that it was up to fate. But Tillman wouldn't shed a tear if this man died. Innocent, preventable deaths were to be lamented, but Tillman had a blind spot for anyone who hurt his family.
Jeff had no idea of the true danger he was in.
Chapter Nine
The plan had gone perfectly, just like Jeff had proposed. Ben had lurked in the fo
rest nearby where Jeff was standing. He patiently waited for the right moment to carry out his part of the plan. The girls never saw what was coming, nor did Tillman. Jeff was so smart. Ben was lucky to have a friend like him. The two of them had had their differences, sure, but they had come to realize they were more alike than they had thought at first. Before Tillman had broken up that stupid fight and turned everyone against them, Ben and Jeff had been destined for a place on the council. Finally, they would be given the respect they never had received in the old world.
Yet since the fight, it was more of the same. Nobody treated them with respect. Nobody looked at them with pride or honor. Tillman had taken all that away. First, he'd cost them the chance to prove themselves in battle, then he'd turned everyone against them because of their petty squabble. It wasn't as though anyone else hadn't fought. He'd heard plenty of arguments between people, but for some reason the world had had it in for Ben. It always had been the same. He'd always been an outsider. His dad had left when he was young, and his mother always had made it seem as if it was Ben's fault. At school he never really had friends, and when he grew up there was just something about him that turned other people away.
No girls really were interested in him, not the girls he liked anyway. When he found out the world had ended, Ben secretly had been pleased. It afforded him a way out of the mundane cycle of paying bills and being ignored. Finally, he would have the chance to show people what he really was about, but Tillman had prevented that, and what right did he have to do that?
Jeff had set it out plain and simple. Tillman wasn't even a part of the neighborhood. He'd left, like so many other people. And now he'd come back, expecting to be taken in and given control. The only thing worse was that people actually accepted him and gave him what he wanted!